Sweet Revenge
by UnderThePureMoon
Summary: In which a simple gentleman does something he won't regret in the slightest. Slight gore. -Claire/Layton. One-shot.-


**This is so wrong…**

**LET'S GO.**

**PS- Title may change**

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><p>Picture this.<p>

You're in love with the prettiest girl around- or at least to you.

She shares your interests, your hobbies, and she's very fond of you.

She's got a brilliant mind- solving the trickiest puzzles only you could solve. She's such a brilliant scientist, that sometimes even you are jealous.

But then again, she's so gorgeous- it's so hard to just stare at her.

You have to envelop in conversation, and in many ways, hold onto everything she says- because if she had gone, how would you survive?

You've always loved her- and you can feel the stares of total rage- such jealous stares radiating off of the other men that look at her with "the eyes".

Those eyes, the ones filled with love and passion for her- The eyes that should only be stared upon her by you.

Because you know, that she has picked you, by calling you down to the park- on such short notice.

And she kisses your cheek- a sign of such affection, that you blush.

You talk and you hear something strange- but you ignore it. You know the girl is yours, and _no one_ will ever touch her.

They can't and they won't- because she is yours.

You apply for a teaching job due to your amazing knowledge and such.

She is so happy for you, and she's really hoping you get the position.

The two of you make plans- based on your own dreams and needs and wants- and if you get the position, she would be yours forever.

She's such a great scientist.

Did I mention that already?

The people she works with are supposedly great minds as well- but you don't like one.

Because you feel his cold eyes piercing your back when you go to pick her up after work sometimes.

You know he loves her- and you are jealous.

You are angry.

And you know this is the first time you've actually felt something more for another person- and it is not just friendship.

It's so obvious the two of you belong together- that's why you hate him.

Because he knows, and because he still continues to love her and stare at her with the eyes.

The eyes.

The ones that see the girl as if she is connected to you- because right now, your heart is in her hands.

The girl does not feel this way towards the other man- and you know she can sense your jealousy.

You know that with the way her body language is- she does not want to tell you she knows, but is only trying to reassure you of her love for you.

You agree with her for now.

But you feel more angry, envious stares that you would only get from an enemy.

And you know exactly who it is.

The long nose and the black hair that had jumped into the water when she finally confessed to you.

She's yours.

Not his.

And she never will be.

She tells you of her new project, a dream for every scientist- or every person you have ever known.

A time machine.

Time travel. It's such an interesting subject.

The two of you begin to talk about what you wished you could've changed in your life- but not once would you actually change it, because then you would never have met her.

She's so concentrated on what you say to her, her eyes agreeing with every word you speak.

The shine of her glasses hitting the sun, her curls floating gently below her shoulders.

She's so beautiful in every shape and form.

The other man she works with is so concentrated on his work- the way his glasses are propped up on his square face.

She says sometimes that working with him is like a nightmare from hell.

He always is so concentrated- and the project has to be so perfect.

He won't allow anything less.

The way he slurs the words off of his tongue in such a demanding, powerful way was infuriating to everyone around him- or more importantly, his partners.

Her associate, the one you hate, begins to have doubts about the project- and so does she.

You understand what they mean- and for once, you have actually talked to the man you loathe so much.

You know where he's coming from, and the "boss" of the operation wants to go through with it- With her being the test subject.

Though you are immensely worried, happy news radiates by.

You got the teaching position.

She is overjoyed, and with a determination, she tells you she has a present to congratulate you.

She looks at you, with such happiness glowing in her eyes, telling you that you must look presentable for the academic community.

You open the box.

A hat.

There it sits.

The top hat you have grown to treasure and love.

The brown top hat, the red stripe above the brim.

She definitely tried her best.

She adjusts your hat, placing the new one on where your old one used to be.

She smiles, so you blush when she giggles and says that you look dashing.

She checks the clock and with a more depressed gasp, she realizes that she is late. They're running a very important experiment at the lab today.

With a quick kiss on the cheek, she leaves your small, humble home and says she can still make it for dinner tonight.

You smile to yourself after she has gone, and adjust the hat.

You like this hat a lot.

And you realize that now your plans can come into action.

Then, about a half an hour later, you hear it.

There it is.

Boom.

The blast.

It still rings through your ears now.

You don't even think about it at all- you move so abruptly, so swiftly, that you sprint out the door, running down the streets.

You look at the destroyed building.

Your anger and depression reaches no limits- you want to break down and cry, but the small boy catches your attention when he screams about his parents.

He needs to go back and find them, he says. But no, you will not allow another life to be taken.

You stop him, watching as the smoke flies out of the building- and then the scream from the loathed man.

Your heart, already broken into multiple pieces shatters again when you hear what he screams.

Her name.

Her lovely name.

She's gone.

It's over.

Your life has no meaning to it anymore.

The small boy in your arms that has been sobbing since you met him outside makes you stay strong- you have to.

For the sake of him.

You feel as though it's what she would have done- as she would have comforted the boy.

As one hand goes to the brim of your hat, the only thing you feel that she's left with you, you see the man, the nightmare from hell, being taken into an ambulance.

You don't hope that she too is alive.

You know she's gone.

The man's face (the one who you loathe) is stroked with dry tears- he too has tried to toughen up- for your sake this time.

The boy has stood by your side- and you tell him to wait here while you go to talk to him.

He tells you that his associate, the nightmare, had gone along with it without his own opinion; he had used her for the test subject.

You want to strangle the stupid man.

You want to hurt him.

He has not just killed your love, but he has also taken the lives of a small boy's parents, and possibly other people.

He doesn't deserve to live.

If anyone did, it's the people who were killed who should be alive- not him.

The boy comes over to you, knowing you are done with your conversation, so you bring him to the police, saying it is the best thing for him.

If she was still here, and this boy was still alone, you would have taken him under your wing- but you do not have the strength for that.

Not now.

Not ever.

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><p>(<strong>The man(second sentence)= Professor<strong>)

Years later, the nightmare becomes the Prime Minister.

The man takes one look at the stupid, ugly face of the nightmare and wonders why he should have to respect _him_, and listen to _his _laws, when he himself should be in jail.

Muffled "Professor!"s are heard from the small children in front of him, and they seem worried.

He assures them it's not a problem, He was just reading something, and he leads them ahead.

The man now is quite the Professor and archaeologist.

He still remembers the sound.

It constantly rings in his ears.

The scream of her name coming from the loathed man comes with it.

He cannot stand seeing the nightmare everywhere.

He hates the Prime Minister with his whole heart.

And one day, he can no longer take it.

The children he so kindly has taken into his home (he wonders how he mustered the strength up for them) are visiting their own homes.

He goes to a store.

He goes to a certain section, and he makes his choice.

He picks up the object, shows his ID, and buys it.

Later, when the children have come back, and the object is hidden in his closet, he sits there.

The children have long gone to bed, and yet he waits for a certain time.

Three hours have passed- it is now 3:00AM.

He gets up from his chair; he stalks silently into his room, gets the object, and opens the door slowly and silently.

He gets in his car, finds the address and parks.

He gets out, breaks into the home and goes up the stairs.

What idiots.

They have left it unlocked. (They have left it unlocked for the cousin who would be coming around 5 am)

He opens the door to find the man sleeping, not next to his wife. (For she has gone to the airport to wait for her cousin)

He pulls the pistol from his coat, he takes it and raises it near the man's head.

He slowly pulls the trigger and shoots.

Bam.

There it goes.

The gunshot's sound has turned on a few room lights, and he hears the voices.

He watches as the crimson blood leaks from the man's head, slowly dripping down his face.

The blood drips from the nightmare's cheek to his chest, staining the man's pajamas.

The blood on his ear drips down his neck, dying the man red.

He slowly climbs out of the window, getting into his car with a smile.

He puts the gun in his closet, takes off his hat, and places it gently in its usual spot and goes to sleep.

What he did tonight, though a part of him hates himself for it, he is satisfied by what he did with his own hands.

The clock reads 4am.

And though a part of her hates herself for it, she is satisfied by what he did tonight.

She knows she never made a mistake with those four years of her life.

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><p><strong>My god O_O<strong>

**That was really… intense.**

**I freaking loved it though.**

**It's really out of character for the Professor, but hey, I liked it a lot. **


End file.
